The Spread Eagle
by Zayz
Summary: Morning after the S6 finale: House generously calls Cuddy out of work. T for the inevitable references to sex. R&R?


A/N: Yayyy, I posted something! And it's cute/funny/not-angsty! This is a momentous day for us all.

But here is what you need to know about this cute/funny/not-angsty post…

- This is meant to be the morning after the season finale.

**-** If you stalk spoiler promos like me, then you know we have seen shots of House's room with his and Cuddy's stuff lying around. I kind of wanted to go with that imagery for the first bit here, but I'm aware I didn't get it all the way right, because my Internet connection is being temperamental and the shots go by too fast for me to get the specifics. So if you have been blessed with the attention span I don't have, and I got something wrong, just go along with it.

- Thanks to my bffl, Liz (**XxIcexX**) for brain-storming with me. You and your help are always more epic than I can say. Heh.

- I love you guys. Review and enjoy in whichever order you fancy.

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**The Spread Eagle  
****By: Zayz**

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His jacket has been abandoned on the floor just outside his bedroom. Her hair-tie, stretched and tired, rests beside it. His shoes are in the hall, soles up. Her shoes are in the door-way, looking much the same. His jeans are in a crumpled heap in the bedroom about a foot away from his side of the bed. Her pink scrubs are on the other side of the bed – shirt by the window, pants by the corner of the bed post. Early-morning sunshine begins to intrude upon the scene and illuminate these things, bathing the mess in a sweetly golden glow.

There is more. The blinds are lopsided and hanging half-open with the slats haphazard, like windswept hair going the wrong way; the door, too, is only partially closed, aimlessly blocking the passage; and even though there are two people with bare shoulders lying in the rumpled bed, the air is utterly still, almost as if it is afraid to break the peace.

She is on the right, curled slightly into her left; he is on the left, curled slightly into his right. Both are awake, but not speaking, their breaths shallow and quiet, almost disbelieving. Her cheek rests on his shoulder and he has his arm around her, his fingers just above the skin of her back, seeming to bring her in even closer.

They lie there for a long time, waking up together, before one of them dares to speak.

"Good morning," Cuddy says into his shoulder, mumbling slightly.

"Good morning," House answers, also mumbling slightly.

She stifles a yawn.

"What's the time?" she asks.

He glances to his left at the alarm-clock, whose glaring red pixels seem slightly stark for such a moment.

"Six," he tells her.

This time, the yawn precedes her awareness and a gust of her air skims his chest like wind.

"I'm supposed to be in the office by eight," she informs him, somewhat warily. "I have a meeting."

"You're already in a meeting," he reminds her.

She smiles sleepily and cuddles in a little closer.

"Rachel was at the babysitter's last night," she says. "She's supposed to stay there all day today too, until I can pick her up after work."

He doesn't respond.

"I forgot to pick up my dry-cleaning yesterday, so I have to remember to go today," she continues. "I also have to talk to the insurance company at some point about a patient's plan, because I think they lied on the form. My sister's birthday is in three days and I have to buy her a present. Someone is threatening to sue one of the surgeons for something, apparently, so I have to find out what happened and sort it out. And I have to find you a new case."

He still doesn't respond.

"There's a lot going on today," she remarks.

"Who do you have to call if you need a day off?" he asks abruptly.

She is slightly taken aback.

"Steven Marley," she says. "Why?"

House considers this for the briefest of moments, before reaching out towards his bedside table. His fingers find Cuddy's phone; and, to her slight astonishment, he goes straight to her contacts and searches for 'm.'

"What are you doing?" she demands, trying to snatch her phone back.

Expertly, he avoids her hand, and finds the contact he is looking for – Steven Marley.

She wriggles, making another valiant attempt at rescuing her phone, but his arm was already around her and he tightens his hold, keeping her hand firmly at her side. Her other arm is pinned underneath his back and he takes great pleasure in flattening it, so that all she can do is stare, worried, as he finds Steven Marley and quickly memorizes his number. He then throws Cuddy's phone back to the table and picks up his own, dialing the number and propping the phone up against his ear.

"House! You _can't do this_," she practically hisses as the dial tone rings. "Stop! Put the phone down! He's _my _boss!"

House, of course, ignores her; and in a moment, a man's voice can be heard from the other end, saying, "Steven Marley speaking."

"Mr. Marley, this is Dr. Gregory House from Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," says House in a pleasant tone that makes her groan. "I just received an urgent phone call from Lisa Cuddy asking me to inform you that she has, most unfortunately, badly pulled a muscle while doing…yoga…and will need to stay home from work today."

"That is very unfortunate indeed," Steven Marley responds gravely, inducing another groan. "But…why hasn't she called me herself?"

"You see, Mr. Marley," says House with a wicked grin, as Cuddy redoubles her efforts to grab the phone, "Dr. Cuddy's cell phone was running out of battery and she would have been very embarrassed if her phone died while she was speaking to you. So she used the last remnants of her battery, lying in bed with her throbbing…ankle…to give me the message. She said she hoped you would understand."

He receives a sharp kick from under the covers for this one.

"I see," says Steven Marley. "Well, I would really prefer if I could speak to her myself…"

"She said she would be charging her phone immediately," says House. "But, you see, the muscle damage is fairly serious and she would need a few hours to recover a little before she had the energy to call you."

"That serious?" Steven Marley appears surprised. "Do you know how it happened, by any chance?"

Cuddy's eyes widen with horror and she tries, yet again, to seize the phone from House; but he overpowers her again and his grin widens. He is clearly enjoying himself.

"I think she might have mentioned a pose called the…Spread Eagle," he says ponderously, though his eyes twinkle wickedly with humor.

"I haven't heard of that one," Steven Marley remarks.

"It's very advanced," House assures him. "You have to spread your legs horizontally all the way out with your arms straight up in the air" – another kick from under the covers – "until you're almost at the splits" – a higher kick this time – "and then, when you are about to reach the ground, you rock back and forth for a few seconds with only your lower body" – her toenails dig into his shin now – "and then, to finish up, you lie down on the mat, legs still apart and arms still over-head" – her hand furiously scratches at his to let her slap him silly – "and you rest your foot on the inside of your inner thigh, as high up as you can go, and then you hold."

He now sighs morosely. "Unfortunately, I think Dr. Cuddy slipped and pulled her hamstring while she was rocking."

Cuddy's eyes go wide with horror, and then close, as though the sight of House on the phone is too much for her to handle right now. Struggling isn't even worth it anymore; she goes limp and pulls the blanket over her head in defeat.

Steven Marley is quiet for a long moment before he says, "I see. Well, thank you for illuminating me, Dr. House. Please wish Dr. Cuddy a speedy recovery from me if you can – and ask her to call me in the evening when she feels better."

"I certainly will," House says, grinning. "Thank you, Mr. Marley. Have a good day."

And the phone goes dead.

House and Cuddy remain where they are for almost a full minute: House, sitting up, the phone now sitting innocently on the bedside table; Cuddy, lying down, hiding under the covers; House, contentedly amused; Cuddy, utterly mortified.

Then—

"Remember to call Steven Marley later tonight," says House, giving Cuddy a small nudge.

At this, she resurfaces from under the comforter, looking tired and exasperated.

"You are impossible," she says, resting her face in her hands.

"Maybe, but I did get you off of work today," he points out.

She merely sighs into her palms.

"Come on," he teases, prying her hands away from her face. "How can this be a bad thing? You get the day to yourself now. Which reminds me…"

House takes his phone back from the bedside table and begins to dial another number. For one wild, horrible second, she fears he is calling Steven Marley again to humiliate her; but when the answering machine beeps on the other line, he says, "Hey, Cuddy. I don't know if or when you are going to get this message, but I need to take the day off. I'm going to be busy doing some…yoga."

He hangs up and tosses the phone back to the bedside table, utterly pleased with himself; and though this is very, very wrong, she can't help but chuckle weakly.

"What about your team?" she asks.

"They can figure something out," he says, waving a dismissive hand. "We have the day off. And it's only six o'clock."

She mulls this one over. It _does _sound nice…an entire twenty-four hours she can spend in any way she pleases. Such an event has not occurred during a weekday for months, if not longer. But instinctively, she knows she needs a break right now. She hasn't forgotten about the ugliness that had taken place when she broke it off with Lucas; she hasn't forgotten the piles and piles of things she is sure are in her in-tray; she hasn't forgotten her child or her dry-cleaning or any number of personal arrangements she has to take care of.

But maybe she needs to forget. For a few hours, maybe she needs to take herself away from what she knows and lie here for hours, in the unknown, happy in a way she almost never is. Maybe she can be allowed that, just this once.

He can practically see the cogs working in her head to make this decision, the conflict and resolution playing out like battle scenes behind her eyes. And when she resolves to do what he has been long hoping she would do – choose him over everything and everyone else – something light and free flies inside his stomach.

"So, that Spread Eagle thing I was telling Marley about," he says rather conversationally, propping himself up on his elbow, facing her with his scarily blue eyes. "Does that sound…doable to you? It is, after all, very advanced, and I need to know if you're up to it before I ask you to do it with me."

She considers this, something light and free flying in her as well, and says, "Well, I don't know if you know this, but I do advanced yoga for an hour every morning."

He grins. "Excellent. Then let's give it a try."

She grins back and leans in to kiss him.

"We have all day," she whispers.

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A/N: An odd little piece, but then again, I'd classify most of my writing as such and I hope you liked it nonetheless.

Please remember to review on the way out.


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